But he wrote on. Lucy wore it every day from then on. . ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. ’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Miss Froxfield frostily. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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